Lycanthropy
by xSaveOurSoulsx
Summary: What happens when Dean and John are hunting a werewolf...and a kid comes along? SUCKISH SUMMARY JUST READ IT. Rated T for swearing because I'm sure you've heard every word in here. OC/No one.


_Chapter 1_

Oh, boy. A werewolf. Dean and John were _really_ looking forward to this.

The last hunt the 24-year-old and his father had been on was a complete disaster. What should have been a simple salt-and-burn turned into a fiasco with the vengeful spirit taking down a home and killing two people and injuring three. Dean and John escaped with nothing but a few scratches, but that didn't stop the onslaught of reporters and police from hounding them. They'd hit the road fast, and had been aching to put a bullet hole in the next supernatural thing they found. With Sammy having run off to college and no hunts showing up for a while, tensions – and tempers – had been rising.

The werewolf was the answer. Not so much work, but a lot of action and adrenaline and plenty of danger, and then you got to shoot it with a silver bullet. Hunting the things was damn fun, they both agreed.

The lunar cycle was sure – attacks during full moons on teenagers, who had been dared to go into the woods near the city of Blackwell, Oklahoma. What hunter wouldn't take it?

So here they were, driving high-spirited toward Oklahoma, the Impala's trunk loaded with weapons, and Dean singing off-key to the blasting Metallica songs, John trying to tune it out – even though he was smiling, too. They both had a feeling this hunt was going to go well.

Ah – if only human instincts were better.

They pulled into the first motel they saw, rented a room, and crashed for the night. They had a big day tomorrow, and they sure as hell didn't want to be drowsy fighting a werewolf. Nothing could be worse, right?

Uh, right?

"Dean, wake up."

Dean's honed hunter senses had him fully alert in less than half a second, sitting up in less than five. Harsh sunlight streamed in through the motel room's grimy windows, which was strange because just yesterday it had been pouring rain…Oklahoma was strange. His father had already left his side and was rummaging through a bag, pulling out police officer uniforms, and tossing one to Dean.

"Put it on," John said roughly, unfolding his own uniform. "We're talking to one of the Vic's family. Be ready in ten."

Dean grunted and went to pull the uniform on, and they were back in the car in only a short time. Time seemed to fly by as he stared out the window at trees and flat land. Seriously, it was like someone rolled over the state with a freaking rolling pin!

The house they finally rolled up to was unkempt, the grass overgrown and weeds choking the once-full flowers. Many wooden boards on the house were old and rotting, and some of the shingles were falling off, and one of the windows was cracked. Anyone could tell this house was not cared for.

"So…_this_ is where Luke…_Hobbs_'s family lives?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose. Sure, some of the motels they stayed at were crappy and gross, but this…this was just _wrong_. How could anyone live here?

John felt the same, but didn't show it. He parked the car near the battered, misshapen mailbox and stepped out, heading to the front door. Dean followed, first uneasily, then confidently.

With wires on the doorbell poking out, John just rapped on the door. When no answer came, he knocked again. The door then swung open to reveal a shaggy woman in her late thirties, dull brown hair untidy and greasy, baggy clothes hanging off her skinny form, and a half-empty beer bottle clenched in her hand.

"What?" she growled, taking in their police officer appearance.

"Hi, I'm Dan Coye and this is my assistant…James Hetfield." John glared at Dean as they flashed their fake badges. "You're Melinda Hobbs, right? Your son was Luke…"

Melinda kept glaring as she took a swig of beer. "Yeah. Luke was killed a month days ago. I already told the feds everything I know. So leave me alone."

The Winchesters glanced at each other and groaned inwardly. This one was going to be hard, they knew.

"Um, Ms. Hobbs," – the woman had been divorced for over three years – "We just want to ask a few questions, we promise we'll be in and out quickly," John said carefully. Melinda glared at them for a second, then turned and walked back inside. She left the door open, so the Winchesters took that as an invitation.

They stepped into the house, wrinkling their noses at the smell of dirty clothes, smoke, and some sort of…old food. Clothes were scattered across the room in small piles, and the wallpaper was peeling and yellow – apparently Ms. Hobbs was a smoker.

Dean leaned over to John's ear and whispered, looking about the room doubtfully, "Why are we talking to her? I thought we knew it was a werewolf!"

John shook his head. "I'm pretty sure it's a werewolf, but we're just confirming. Ms. Hobbs was supposed to pick her son up from soccer practice that night…there's a chance she could have seen something."

Ms. Hobbs returned from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of beer, the other having been flung unceremoniously onto a pile of clothes. She worked the cap off, took a swig, and sat on the dust-covered couch, which made an ominous creaking sound. She leaned forward, gesturing for Dean and John to sit, to which the Winchesters complied.

"What do you want to know?" Ms. Hobbs growled.

"You went to pick your son up from soccer practice, right?" John jumped straight to the point.

"So?"

Dean answered. "Did you see anything…_unusual_ in the woods where Luke was found?"

Ms. Hobbs shot them a dirty look, glanced somewhat uncertainly down at the table, then back up at the Winchesters, a hard look in her eyes.

"There was…_something _in those woods," she whispered. "It was _not _human." Dean and John listened intently, knowing this was what they were looking for. But Ms. Hobbs leaned back again, slouching against the couch, any trace of the uncertainty gone.

"But I didn't see it," she said, making the Winchesters want to growl. She hadn't seen the thing. But at least she knew there was _something_ in there… and now they knew where their werewolf was.

None of them noticed as a tall 14-year-old boy stepped into the room, until he spoke up.

"Mom, there's nothing in the fridge to eat again," the boy said, sounding annoyed and angry. The Winchesters turned their heads as Ms. Hobbs replied.

"Then go out and buy something, dammit Ethan!" she yelled at him. He glared at her with striking similarity and turned and stormed back into the hallway. Ms. Hobbs looked back to the Winchesters and set her beer on the table, muttering under her breath, "damn kids…"

John stood, and Dean followed suit. "I think it's time for us to go," John said. Ms. Hobbs nodded and quickly shuffled her way to the kitchen, bringing her beer with her, without a goodbye. Dean sighed thankfully and John, annoyed, considered giving him a good whack to the head. He decided not to and they both headed towards the door.

But when they turned to leave, a hand slammed against the door, causing the wood to rattle and creak. John and Dean started, looking at the boy who had again appeared so silently, his arm outstretched, head bowed, staring at the floor.

Ethan lifted his head to stare at the Winchesters. His eyes were a piercing green, dirty blonde hair matted over his forehead. A black hat was shoved over his head, white puffs at the ends dirty. He was wearing an oddly shapeless green-gray long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves overlapping his wrists so only his spindly fingers showed, and a baggy pair of pants much too long for him. He was gripping Ms. Hobbs's discarded beer bottle, making him look much too similar to his mother.

He glared up at them, just as his mother did, through his fringe of hair. John and Dean stared at him strangely until he spoke.

"That thing that killed my brother," he said quietly but determinedly. "I know that thing wasn't human…what was it?"

When he received no answer, he continued.

"I saw it…it was…it wasn't even an animal. And when I saw what it had done to Luke…" He sighed and shook his head. "I have to know. What did this to my brother?"

John and Dean glanced at each other, then at Ethan. The signs of neglect were obvious – his clothes were grungy and dirty, he was skinny, like he hadn't eaten in a few days, and he had shadows under his eyes – probably from spending the night uncomfortable on the floor. But that wasn't the problem right now. Ethan wanted to know what got his brother.

John saved the day. "It could have been a wolf, or a bear. Maybe you were tired, it was late at night, as I remember?"

Ethan glared at them harder. John knew that hadn't cut it. "I saw what I saw. That thing was no wolf, and it definitely wasn't a bear. No animal could have done that kind of damage."

Dean got a funny feeling all of the sudden. Was that…guilt? He didn't know why. He had lied to so many other people, so why was he feeling guilty that his _dad _was lying to this kid?

John, an expert liar, gave the kid a pitying look, as if he were a small child saying a monster was in his closet.

"Ethan, I know you've gone through a lot, with your brother having passed away-"

Ethan slammed his fist into the door.

"Don't try to pull that shit with me!" He yelled. "Luke was _killed _by something, and I want to know what the fuck it was!"

The Winchesters looked surprised. A lot of victim's family's were aching to know what killed one of them, but none of them had outright screamed at them. Most were too miserable…or something like that. So, Dean just decided this kid wouldn't take lies and he would just come out and tell him.

"You wanna know what killed your brother?"

Ethan nodded briskly.

"You be able to believe something really…unbelievable?"

Ethan nodded, a little slower. John got what Dean was doing and immediately tried to cut him off, but Dean just talked over him.

"It was a werewolf."

The room got deadly quiet as the Winchesters stared at Ethan, ready for his reaction. Ethan looked stunned for a second, then his face twisted into that permanent scowl and he nodded once more.

"And you're going to catch it?"

Well, _that _wasn't what they were expecting. John and Dean glanced at each other, and Dean looked back at Ethan and nodded.

Ethan stared at the ground for a few seconds, then sighed. He glared at them one last time, murmured, "Good luck," and shoved Dean out of his way and shuffled to the kitchen.

John placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and they headed back outside.


End file.
